a particular day

October 26, 2003

French doors and ghost stories

A not so spooky evening

I lollygagged most of Saturday away. Come evening, I headed over to Anne and Katie's apartment for a last hurrah in their digs as they prepare to bid farewell to the abode. It's a cool place with hardwood floors and steam heat. A screened in porch, likely my favorite feature, accessible through double french doors, brought some cool autumn air inside.

As the beer was nearing gone and the last bottle of wine was opened, the stories got more off-color (pinko communists and gay-tight shirts were mentioned). Somehow the topic of urban legends came about, particularly appropriate for the season. Two folks went to Ohio University, which seems to be steeped in ghost lore.

The one that stuck:

A girl forgot a book while going to the library one night, and went back to her room to get it. She lived in a quad, those rooms four people share. In the bedroom there are two dressers with mirrors.

The lights were off and she just went in and picked up the book off the top of the dresser and left.

Hours later, she returned, there were police cars and an ambulance parked outside.

Her roommate was raped and killed. On the mirror, written in blood, it said - Aren't you glad you didn't turn on the lights.

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